


Cursed With Never Developing an Immune System

by Rainy182



Series: Prompt Fics [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, POV Third Person, Sick Character, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainy182/pseuds/Rainy182
Summary: Derek is cursed so Peter and Stiles help with the remedy.Now translated intoRussianbyNegative_one





	Cursed With Never Developing an Immune System

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the longest one-shot I've written. Like it was four pages on google docs yikes! Anywho I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Russian Translation [HERE](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8014758)

Derek was miserable. His throat felt like sandpaper was coating the inside of it, and his nose was somehow clogged without any actual snot in it. He never thought he would hate his heightened senses, but with every noise his head pounds as if a jackhammer was let loose on his skull. The small amount of light that escaped from the thick curtains in his room only serve to cause his eyes to burn and himself to flinch. 

 

He was cursed. That was obviously the only logical answer. Derek had finally managed to piss off the wrong trespassing witch, and as a result she cursed him to misery. To experience all the bad effects of his supernatural gifts. Or, in the case of his nose, lose them all together. 

 

Nevertheless, if its a curse Derek already knew just the pair to call. The only ones in the pack that had a knack for research and the intelligence to match. And not to discredit Lydia, however she has little patience for the obscurity that research sometimes requires. Which leaves Stiles and Derek’s estranged (However that works when your pack) uncle. 

 

The alpha could feel the  slight dread fill him as he picked up his phone to call the duo. Already trying to prep himself for Peter’s snark and “know it all” attitude before he even  _ thinks _ of helping. Derek only hopes that Stiles is there with Peter when his uncle answers his phone. If nothing else but to cut down the ten minute process down to five. 

 

Peter was finally letting his mouth brush against Stiles’s satin covered bulge when his phone went off….for the sixth time. Peter has half a mind to let it keep ringing just for principle alone, but at Stiles sigh of resignation the wolf knew it was no longer an option for him. He can’t help but let out a small growl when he goes to grab the phone sitting innocently on the nightstand next to his and his mates lying bodies. 

 

“Nephew,” Peter’s voice drawls out with obvious annoyance. He looks over next to him to see Stiles pulling his pants back on and already grabbing his infamous bat from the corner of the room. He never leaves home without it anymore. 

 

“What were you doing that was so important you ignore five calls?,” Derek replied back with in a gruff voice, “What if it was an emergency?” 

 

If it was an emergency both Peter and Stiles would’ve felt it through the pack bonds. However Peter’s wolf can’t help but curl up in guilt at the scolding from his Alpha. Although Peter himself would never let Derek have any privy to that knowledge. 

 

“Stiles if you must know,” Peter snarks back, “And I’d hope you wouldn’t rely on me in a true and urgent emergency.” 

 

There's a moment of silence that comes from Derek's end of the phone, it even last long enough for Peter to wonder if maybe Derek had finally had enough and hung up. 

 

“Are you done?” Derek finally replies with a dry tone, “Put Stiles on the phone. Please.” 

 

Derek saying please was enough of a shock for Peter to actually grow worried and hurriedly pass the phone over to a now fully dressed and ready to fight Stiles. 

 

Stiles looked at the phone being passed to him for a few moments. All of the worse case scenarios going through his mind. Was the Pack Attacked? Did someone die? Is his dad okay? 

The spark can’t help but immediately feel some sort of self resentment about spending the night wrapped in Peter’s arms when other people that he loves are in danger. 

 

“Derek what’s wrong?” 

“I’m cursed,” Derek’s reply straight forward, “I don't know which witch did it, but we need to reverse it. Can you and my uncle look up a remedy?” 

 

Stiles feels his worry lessen a notch at Derek’s words. A curse can be easily fixable and is also something that he, Peter, and Lydia had dealt with before on a number of occasions. And if Derek was able to call him and Peter, than whatever curse he is facing can’t be immediately life threatening. 

 

“Sure, what are the effects of the curse?” Stiles already grabbing a pen and paper from Peter who is now fully clothed and sitting at the edge of the bed listening in. 

 

“Okay. My senses are extremely sensitive. Noise is making my head hurt, and my eyes can’t really handle any bright light right now,” Stiles starts scratching down what is being said, “And my throat feels like sandpaper is coating it. I also lost my sense of smell, because my nose feels clogged!” 

 

Stiles stops writing and Peter sends him a look of confusion in response. 

 

“Hey Der,” Stiles voice taking on a curious tone, “Have you been experiencing drowsiness and maybe feeling a little hot?”  The young spark has an idea of exactly what kind of curse this is, but he rather be sure before making a run towards the medicine cabinet. 

 

A loud yes followed by a cough comes from Stiles’s phone in response. With that Stiles sets aside the mostly blank paper and pen. All the worry that kept rising and lowering in Stiles completely dissipates as he goes to grab his shoes. 

 

“Don’t worry Sourwolf, we’ll be there with the cure in about fifteen minutes. Hang tight.” 

 

With a confirmation from the Alpha, Stiles ends the call and turns to Peter with a smile. 

 

“Do we have an benadryl left over? And we need to get about an ounce of wolfsbane.” 

 

The sound of the front door of the loft opening- although painful- was godsend to Derek. He had finally managed to block all light from coming into the apartment, and minimized sounds at all cost, but knowing that the cure to his curse was in arms reach made him feel a hundreds times better. 

Derek looks up from his place on the couch to see Peter and Stiles standing above him. His wolf wants to growl in anger of having a lower ranking pack member above him at a moment of vulnerability, but frankly Derek feels too much like crap to make any fuss. So he just makes sure to keep his neck protected and calls it a day. 

 

“Thank you for coming,” he croaks out, his voice getting worse as his curse goes on untreated, “So what’s the cure for the curse?” 

 

He’s not sure what should out him off more, Stiles poorly concealed laughter or Peter’s smirk, but he chooses to worry about it after he’s feeling better. 

 

“You aren’t cursed Derek,” Peter says in a lofty voice. 

“You’re just sick,” Stiles finishes for him, a small laugh escaping from his throat. 

 

Wait sick?  _ How _ Derek can’t help but wonder. Werewolves don’t get sick, and if he’s honest none of the human Hales got sick either that he can remember. It just didn’t happen. 

 

“Sick?,” he can’t help but repeat back in question. 

 

“Yep! A common- well not for you- cold,” Stiles replies while pulling out a medicine bottle, “Turns out the witch did put a spell on you. She weakened you healing abilities for forty-eight hours apparently- don't know why- and since you never wear a proper coat...you got sick.” 

 

Common cold? Coat? Derek to say the least was confused. Happy though that it seems that he isn’t suffering a life threatening crisis, but confused nevertheless. 

 

“So how will we fix it?” 

 

“Good old medicine,” Stiles reply was too light to be just that. 

“And a dash of wolfsbane,” Peter tacked on with a smirk as he leans against the doorway rail.

 

Before Derek could even open his mouth the protest Stiles cuts him off, “Its so we know the medicine will work! The forty-eight hours is almost up, so we’re hoping the combo of the medicine and the wolfsbane will kickstart your immune system to heal yourself. You’ll be fine!” 

 

Silence fills the room as Derek looks from Stiles, to Peter, to the medicine and back. Naturally he doesn’t want to go all in without all the information, but when his head decides to release another round of jackhammer level of headache pain he just sticks his hand out. 

 

“I’ll do it.” 

 

Nobody saw the throwing up happening, nor did they expect it to last almost twenty minutes, but it happened. And afterwards Derek’s fever broke and his was back to his god like olive skin tone instead of the deathly pale that had plagued him. Stiles still forced him to sleep the last of what could possible remain off, and Peter made tomato soup using Talia’s recipe. Because unlike Derek who didn’t know of any sick Hales, Peter did remember his very human sister becoming ill, and how Talia took care of her when they were children. 

Him and Stiles took turns watching over Derek and making sure he stayed sleeping on his side and with a damp cloth on his forehead at all times. And slowly as the hours passed by, his health started to return to him. He was as good as new. 

 

“Thank you,” Derek says over breakfast two days later. 

 

Stiles cracks a joke and Peter mutters a “don’t mention it.” But the pack bound flares with a sense of love. Because pack takes care of pack.


End file.
